When Plans Go Wrong
by whiteraven93
Summary: This fanfic is dead. Please see last chapter for explanation.
1. Chapter 1: Their First Mistake

_This is placed roughly 200 Turns after the end of the Ninth Pass of the Red Star past the planet Pern. It's not much of a well-thought-out plotline, but I figure that machines can always make mistakes (even when you've managed space travel and genetic engineering; that's what make machines so special). I tried to make everything reasonable, but I'm human like everyone else, so please tell me when I make an obvious (to you) mistake. Anyway, read on. I hope you enjoy it and comment. Even if you don't like it, please comment. I'll take anything. :)_

_Disclaimer: Pern, the Dragonriders of Pern, its history, etc. are all owned by Anne (and Todd) McCaffrey. I didn't make up anything except for my characters and the situations I create for them. This fanfic is written solely for the enjoyment of myself and anyone else who likes to daydream about the best series ever._

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Chapter 1: Their First Mistake

Journeyman farmer Kelsin tipped his watering can upright and leaned toward the moistened plants in his special garden. Though there were several types of trees growing within the stone walls, the fellis trees were his wife Luana's favorites. With a smile on his face, Kelsin cut a few of the flowering blossoms for her and breathed deeply of their sweet, cloying scent. Being farmers, he and his wife knew the various tricks to growing, storing, and using the medicinal plant, but Luana particularly liked the flower for its gentle beauty and scent. Kelsin had even managed to make her a fellis-scented perfume for Gathers. He set down the now-empty watering can, wiped the loose soil off of his gloves, and headed back to the free-standing house he shared with his spouse.

"Is that fellis I smell?" Luana called cheerfully as he entered the front room.

"Indeed, it is," Kelsin replied, placing the flowers in a convenient vase.

"Oh! They're lovely," Luana exclaimed as she came forward to embrace her mate. "Are they from the east orchard?"

Kelsin nodded. The east orchard of Fellis Hold had only fifteen trees, but their flowers and fruit were easily distinguished from those grown elsewhere. Kelsin's grandfather, Kanasli, had walled off the area in stone and carefully seeded the soil with the silvery-grey, lightly furred grubs that were disappearing at an alarming rate. One of the Farmercrafthall's newly developed pesticides, useful for deterring and destroying trundlebugs, vtols, and other harmful insects, was even more effective against grubs. However, by the time this was discovered, holders all across both Northern and Southern Continents were using the stuff, and the damage had been done.

Grubs quickly became a rarity. Kanasli had been one of very few who still valued their existence. Most people, even master farmers, insisted that they were only useful during a Pass, and, since the last Pass (the Ninth Pass) had been the _final _Pass, grubs were no longer a necessity. They discounted the grubs, but everyone agreed that Kanasli's grubbed orchard grew better plants with larger, more potent leaves, flowers, fruit, and bark. Even the klah made from his trees tasted better. Gradually, his orchard became the only area in the Southern Continent known to contain grubs, and each successive generation made a point of helping the grubs to flourish there. For Kelsin, this meant an almost religious abstinence from the grub-killing pesticide so that he could begin transplanting larval sacs to some of his other orchards and fields.

"I just got word from my sister in Monaco," Luana said. "They're having a Gather this next restday, and she's invited us. She's even found a fire-lizard's clutch if we want an egg or two. What do you say, Kel? Shall we go?"

Kelsin couldn't miss the eagerness in her voice or the desperation that it was meant to cover. He felt a twinge of guilt. It had been months since he'd taken her to a Gather, and having to mind their two sons almost entirely by herself was beginning to wear on her. But she'd said Cestaline had found a clutch... Perhaps having a fire-lizard or two around the hold would help raise all of their spirits. Kelsin had heard that fire-lizards were a good way to communicate with friends and relatives...sometimes...if they were trained...and knew who to go to. The eagerness in Luana's wide, brown eyes decided him.

"Let's start packing," he said. "If we're going to be in Monaco, we may as well stay a while and enjoy it. Besides, it's about time the boys learned to swim."

"Oh, thank you, Kel!" Luana cried, her overjoyed response making Kelsin even guiltier. "Oh! But what about the hold? And your work?"

"Don't worry so much, Lu," Kelsin replied quickly. "I'm sure that things will be fine without me. As soon as I leave, all those plants will loosen right up; I'm probably stressing them out by hovering all the time."

Luana knew that wasn't quite true; as soon as they returned, Kelsin would have to carefully inspect each growth, many of which he would probably deem "dryer than a sandpit in Igen." But she recognised that he was trying to lighten her worries, so she hugged him quickly and ran to the back room where her two sons, ages ten and twelve, were busy reciting the Traditional Teaching Ballads that one of the travelling harpers had set them to learn by his next visit next half-Turn. By that night, the family of four had packed their bundles for a sevenday stay with Luana's sister, and the morning's dawn saw four runnerbeasts headed out of Fellis Hold lands.

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_Yes, you get a cliff-hanger...sort of. Next chapter should be up hopefully soon. I kind of pity Kelsin and his family; you'll find out why later. I hope you enjoyed it, so please comment. I would really appreciate it._


	2. Chapter 2: Panic

_New chapter is up unusually soon, so please enjoy it. The plot will develop a lot in this chapter, but it might take a bit to tie everything together. Please bear with me. Also, if you read, please review. I'd love some feedback. And just because I love them, I'll say this: M'ris and Forth, Lina and Mith, and M'gor and Cadeth are all pairs that I created on another site with a situation very much like this. I'll toss in some of the other characters in later chapters, where I will point them out to you. Please look forward to it._

_Disclaimer: Same as chapter one._

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Chapter 2: Panic

Sunlight pouring through an open window alerted M'ris to the coming of dawn. He could just barely glimpse his dragon's blue tail twitching spasmodically beyond the east-facing doorway; he guessed Forth hadn't been able to sleep either. With a groan, he rose to his feet and rummaged in his cold-storage unit for a pitcher of red fruit juice. The unit was one of many conveniences that the people of Pern had resurrected with the help of Aivas; not all had caught on, but this was one that had made life in Southern far easier. M'ris wondered how his many-times-great grandfather, an avid Weyr- and Aivas-hater, would react if he could see the bluerider now as he made full use of the "new" technology.

_Don't think such negative thoughts, M'ris, _Forth told his rider. _They upset you._

M'ris caught the absent note to his partner's thoughts. Usually, the blue was very focused on the here and now; M'ris hadn't heard him so distant since the time they were present for an Ista Weyr green's first mating flight. Had a green and her rider wandered too near? No. He decided that Forth was intent on something, but it wasn't on _that _sort of something. He exited the wooden house he had built for himself and went to stand by his dragon's head, facing the rising sun. The horizon was tinged with silver, promising rains later in the day. Forth would enjoy that; he loved rainy flights.

_It is not rain._

"Are you sure?" M'ris asked. It looked like rainclouds to him.

_Positive._

M'ris had been a dragonrider long enough not to question his dragon. Forth's eyes were whirling faster and faster with twinges of red and orange beginning to show. But if not rain, then what...? Abruptly, Forth's body tensed, and he hissed, his tail thrashing violently. M'ris stumbled backward as his dragon reared up on his hind legs and roared.

_M'ris! I need firestone. Now!_

"Firestone?" M'ris asked incredulously. "What are you talking about? No one needs firestone anymore. Forth! What _is _it?"

Forth hissed, his eyes now a solid whirl of red and orange.

_It is...Thread!_

M'ris froze, denial of that statement flooding his brain. That wasn't possible. The Ninth Pass dragons and riders had eliminated the threat of Thread for good. Aivas had assured them that there would be no more Passes! But...could Forth be so mistaken? No. Dragons alway _knew_ when Thread was near. Always. Right?

_Hurry! Thread falls. The others are gathering in the Weyrs! We must go to Ista!_

That decided him. M'ris wasted no time grabbing his flying jacket, helmet, gloves, and riding harness. He strapped the leather harness onto Forth's back and scrambled into place. He was struggling to shove his arms through the sleeves of his wherhide jacket even as he gave Forth the visual of Ista Weyr's Bowl, the Weyr where they had Impressed and spent their first Turn of training. As they disappeared into the bitter cold and dark of _between_, M'ris hastily grabbed at his riding straps, cursing himself for a fool who didn't remember to clip his safety straps onto his riding belt, and prayed that he wouldn't fall off while in the dark nothingness of _between. _Abruptly, they reemerged above Ista Weyr among a chaotic frenzy of dragons swooping and veering, all trying to find space to land, and Forth found himself forced to hover to keep from colliding with another dragon. M'ris watched as a half dozen queen dragons collected near the storage room entrances, their riders hurriedly trying to find flamethrowers and tanks of HNO3, more commonly known by its nickname: agenothree. He pulled his gaze from the queens, desperate to find both a place to land and some way to get either firestone or some answers. His eyes raked the Bowl, skimming the scene to find an open pathway of air.

_There._

Forth didn't wait for his rider to acknowledge his statement or look in the right direction; the blue dragon dove, tucking his wings in completely at one point to get through a narrow space between two bronzes. Neither dragon noticed as the small, blue body rocketed past, but, had M'ris been a regular Weyr rider instead of a free-lancer in the South, he was sure that he would have been grounded for several sevendays and put on the lowliest duties the Weyrleader could think of for trying a stunt like that. Or perhaps not; he saw more than one other dragon pair perform the same risky, and sometimes riskier, maneuvers in the frenzy. Finally, he felt Forth connect with the ground, the force of landing throwing him forward. He very nearly fell, but Forth moved quickly to compensate for his rider's imbalance. The pair moved quickly to the side to give others more room to land, but M'ris still saw a fair amount of dragons perching on the edges of personal weyrs, their whirling red eyes glowing balefully in the dawn light.

"Can't they settle?" M'ris asked impatiently as he realized that some of the dragons darting about were not even trying to land; they were simply there to make a ruckus or, more likely, grab some firestone and disappear _between._

As though she had heard M'ris's statement, Ista's senior queen shrieked for silence, both with her voice and her mind. It took a moment more, but the dragons all abruptly either winked out of sight or found an empty space on a weyr ledge or in the Bowl. All eyes turned towards the Weyrleaders, and M'ris belatedly realized that the hierarchy had changed since he had left ten Turns ago. Mith was now senior queen, with bronze Cadeth as her mate. He thought he could just make out Lina and M'gor near them, directing some of the other riders and gesturing to a man further off. Good; someone needed to take control of this mess, and it may as well be the Weyrleaders. Who better to prevent an even greater panic?

_Forth? Do any of the other dragons know what's going on? _M'ris asked his dragon mentally. Any spoken words would have been lost in the din raised by so many dragons, riders, and fairs of fire-lizards from those who weyred in the South.

_We all know. We know that Thread is falling. We do not know why._

That was answer enough for M'ris. He knew that he certainly didn't know why Thread was falling when the last Pass had ended 200 Turns before, and he didn't have time to think about it. He was a dragonrider, and he knew his Teaching Ballads as well as anyone. _Drag__onmen must fly/When Thread is in the sky. _But what were the Weyrleaders looking so panicked about? There were several bronze riders clustered about the pair, and the color had drained from all of their faces. M'ris frowned.

_They are worried, _Forth said, anticipating his rider's query. _They say the mines were closed many Turns ago, and they don't know what they can do now. M'ris, what does that mean? What mines were closed?_

M'ris couldn't answer. He had completely forgotten that the firestone mines hadn't been worked since the Interval began.

_M'ris? When will they give us firestone? When will we flame Thread?_

How could he have been so dense? M'ris cursed himself. How could he tell Forth that _there was no firestone?_

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_Dun-dun-dun! Dramatic cliff-hanger. Next installation is in the works, so don't think that I'm just going to leave things the way they are. Thanks for reading, and have fun trying to figure out what will happen next. Please review._


	3. Chapter 3: Desperation

_As you'll notice, I find it easier to start each chapter after either a teensy time-skip or a change of location/character. For instance, Chapter two is roughly five days after Chapter one. Chapter three is a little less than an hour after Chapter two and is above an undefined stretch of land in Southern (since I'm not very familiar with Southern's landscape). That means I can hint at tedious conversations without writing them, and just get straight to the results of said conversations. It makes for a more dramatic story, and I, personally, enjoy writing it more. I hope you enjoy reading it._

_Disclaimer: Same as Chapter one._

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Chapter 3: Desperation

The air rushing past Tyreena's face was a welcome relief from the uncomfortably hot Southern air. It was one of the perks of being a dragonrider in Monaco Weyr for Tyreena to simply up and fly away with her dragon. She wished that was what she was doing now; a leisurely trip to her parents' hold would have been far more palatable than being one of hundreds of blue and greenriders just waiting for Thread to reach them. It would have been a bit better if they were all from the same Weyr, but there simply wouldn't be enough riders and dragons. They had been forced to call in reinforcements from Southern, Ista, and Igen Weyrs, and Tyreena wasn't completely sure they could work together. Their dragons were naturally competetive and unused to working without the leadership of a brown or bronze; could they really make this work? She gripped the extended wand of her flamethrower tightly, praying that the contraption worked as it should. When the queen dragons of Pern had sent out the order for every blue and green rider to search his Weyr or weyrhold for a flamethrower, Tyreena had obeyed without question, barely pausing to see if it had all the necessary parts. After all, with the firestone mines dormant, there was no better way to fight Thread.

_I should be flaming, _Purith told her rider peevishly. _We should all be flaming. Dragons are better than flamethrowers._

_That may be, but you have no firestone to flame with, _Tyreena replied smoothly.

_There is firestone in the storerooms in the northern Weyrs._

Tyreena didn't bother reminding her that the firestone still in the storerooms, in addition to dating from the last Pass, wouldn't total enough to keep three bronzes flaming through a full Fall.

_The flamethrowers work well enough, _she answered instead. _Besides-_

The full-throated roars of nearly three hundred dragons drowned out the rest of her thought. She felt Purith draw in a deep breath in preparation to add her own voice to the din, and as Tyreena lifted her flamethrower up, she caught sight of what had triggered the dragons' challenge: Thread, an endless stream of silver strands, falling out of a clear, blue sky. They looked so harmless, as harmless as the threads used in the Weavers' Craft. If not for the Teaching Ballads and the Turns of knowledge passed down through the generations, Tyreena would have thought the sight beautiful. She was reminded of the ancient menace as the highest riders ignored their dragons' anxiety; she clearly heard the screams, both human and dragon, as the first dragonpair was scored. The pair was quick to disappear _between, _but their pain had served to jolt the other riders out of their shock. Bursts of flame erupted high in the sky to char the deadly Thread into ash that floated harmlessly down through the ranks of dragons. Live Thread followed the dead, and there were suddenly gouts of flame everywhere. Tyreena watched a tangle of Threads plummet towardher. Grimly, she raised her wand, clicked the release, and watched in horror as nothing happened. She clicked again. And again. Finally, it was too late. The strands had fallen to Purith's shoulder, marring the green hide wherever it touched. Purith screamed, and Tyreena screamed with her. Then she was screaming for herself, too, when the Thread touched her leg. The searing pain was two-fold; dragon and rider felt both pains.

The cold of _between _had never been so welcome. The sheer cessation of pain was enough to make Tyreena cry out in relief...not that she heard it. Purith held them there for a moment longer than usual to be sure all the Thread was dead and gone, and then they were back in the air, almost in the same position they had left. Tyreena leaned forward to inspect Purith's shoulder. The criss-crossed score was tinged with black, and green ichor oozed slowly from the wound. A minor score, she decided. It had felt far worse than it was. Her leg was the same; the Thread had been slightly impeded by her wherhide pants, so the score wasn't as deep as it could have been. Numbweed on both wounds would do the trick, but that could wait.

Tyreena ran a quick check of her flamethrower equipment. She gave the connection holding the wand to the agenothree tank an extra twist, tapping the attachment to dislodge any gunk that might have clogged the tube. If the 'thrower was faulty, she and Purith would have to return to the Weyr to repair or replace it. Several other riders whose 'throwers weren't working had already gone _between. _Tyreena clicked the release experimentally and was rewarded with a short blast of red-orange fire.

_Hold tight, _Purith warned.

Tyreena had just enough time to grab the fighting straps before Purith veered, narrowly dodging a blue whose rider was intent on a patch of Thread. She was reminded why only the smaller colors had been allowed to fly this Fall; their greater manueverability was invaluable when flying in such close quarters, and their smaller size made it easier for their riders to flame Thread and not dragon hide. At least, that was the main reason. Tyreena privately thought that it was also because the larger dragons were off on some other extra-special, super-important mission. That was usually the case. Greens and blues were not too proud to convey holders and crafters, but the golds, bronzes, and most of the browns too often would deny such tasks in favor of more "appropriate" missions. Tyreena didn't much care about them; she was proud both to ride a green and to be in this first Fall.

_There's another clump coming! _Purith said suddenly, surging upward to allow Tyreena a better shot.

She saw it. Tyreena whipped her wand up, clicked the release, and flamed. _Ha! _She nearly cheered in triumph as the fire traveled up the silver strand and burned the Thread into ash. She had seared her very first Thread! Purith touched her mind with approval, feeling equally proud and envious of her rider. After the first rush of actually flaming Thread had passed, time seemed to slow until Tyreena was certain she'd never done anything else. Her mind was focused on searching the sky for Thread, flaming, directing Purith _between, _comforting her dragon when she was scored, and doing it all over again. More than once, the dragons uttered their eerie, heart-wrenching, terrible keening when one of their number, too badly scored, disappeared _between _and didn't return. After the seveth death, Tyreena stopped counting. By the time the sky was clear of Thread, she was honestly surprised to see how far they had traveled. The open meadows had slowly been replaced by dense forest. She saw a wing detach itself from the main contingent to sweep over the land they had already passed.

_Looking for burrows, _Purith told her. _There are many. Voliathsays we are all to return to our home Weyrs. If we are needed here, we will be told._

_Sounds good to me. Let's go home._

Wearily, Tyreena looked about her to see if the remainder of her wing (excepting the ten bronzes and browns who hadn't been included) had gotten the same message. They had lost two greens that she could count before they all began disappearing _between. _She gave Purith the aerial view of Monaco Weyr and directed her _between. _The cold stabbing at the scores was enough that, after they came out into Monaco's airspace, Tyreena was calling for numbweed almost before they had landed. As she slathered the stuff on, she noted with relief that the only scores (across shoulders, back, and tail) were minor. She had thought that a stray Thread or two had caught wing membrane, but they had apparently been lucky. Others had not. With her own pain dulled, Purith dutifully informed her of the reported casualties: two greens and a blue in their wing, as well as six others from the other wings, had been lost _between_; there were twelve with bad wing-scores who would be unable to fight for a month or more; nine had severe body scores and had already been heavily dosed with fellis; thirty-two riders were badly scored and had been give fellis; all others had minor scoring. Tyreena winced at the numbers, not feeling any better that she and Purith had come out of it with minimal damage.

While she waited for news on the burrows, Tyreena volunteered herself to help with the Weyr healers. She spent nearly two hours slathering numbweed over scores, bandaging limbs, and running supplies here and there before someone told her to go back to her own weyr and rest. With Purith's reassurance that the sweepriders would not call on them, she gratefully retired to her bed. She fell asleep almost immediately, but she could never tell whether it was from sheer exhaustion or the mug of fellis-laced wine a healer had pressed on her. She decided she didn't care.

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_Note: Tyreena and Purith are a pair I'd made in the same rp as the pairs from Chapter two. Voliath will be explained next chapter, but he and his rider are the same way._

_I am aware that it is highly unlikely that so many flamethrowers would be found just by chance, but my guess is that they were used for burning back vegetation in the Southern Continent, Nerat, and Southern Boll. That's a decent enough excuse for now. Anyway, it's not like all of them worked perfectly (as demonstrated), and the Fall wasn't without casualties. Well, I hope you enjoyed my very first ever attempt at writing a Thread-fighting scene (and I mean ever; I'd never even tried before this specific chapter). Bear in mind that I had to rewrite most of this story once, and then rewrite another paragraph after that because the internet stopped working before I could save it. So it isn't what I originally wrote, and therefore isn't as good. However, it's decent, so please enjoy. Remember, if you read, review. It's great motivation._


	4. Chapter 4: Coping

_Thanks for all of your wonderful comments. They make me happy (*smile*) and give me great insight into what the reader (you) wants. So here's hoping you enjoy the continuation of "When Plans Go Wrong." Chapter four takes place the day after Fall. D'ran and Voliath are from my rp, but Annis and Clinith are not._

_Disclaimer: Same as chapter one. If you've forgotten, go back and look._

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**Chapter 4: Coping**

"What have the other Weyrs reported?" Annis asked from her seat at the Weyrleaders' table in Monaco's Records Room. Her lead-filled writing stick was poised over the sheet of wood-pulp paper she would use for the Record of yesterday's Fall.

Annis's weyrmate and the Weyrleader of Monaco Weyr, D'ran, sighed wearily as he took the seat next to her. He was only in his mid-thirties, but the devastation of Thread had aged him prematurely.

"Southern reports nineteen dead and twenty-one out of action for the next month," he began. "Ista has twenty-six dead and forty out of action. Igen has twenty-three dead and nineteen out of action. It seems we were lucky to lose only twelve..."

"Twelve?" Annis interrupted. "I thought it was only nine."

"Three more went _between _this morning," D'ran explained. "I have some healers with the riders now."

"Great," Annis muttered. "And the burrows? Clinith said Voliath said you had better explain things to me."

"That's right," D'ran said. "It seems that the Thread we missed has denuded a corridor roughly ten klicks long and a half klick wide, most of which was inhabited."

Annis clenched her fist tightly at the news. No Weyrwoman wanted to hear something like that, even if no one could have predicted Thred could fall again after Aivas had practically _guaranteed _Threadfree skies. D'ran touched her hand lightly, and she slowly released the writing stick before it broke.

"If we still had the grubs, this wouldn't be a problem," she muttered angrily, slamming her hand down on the tabletop. "But those sharding farmcrafters just _had _to invent a pesticide that killed grubs too!"

"I think you need to see something," D'ran said quietly, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"I _need _to get this Record written," Annis said, glaring at him.

"Just a short hop _between,_" D'ran wheedled. "We won't be gone for more than a half hour, I promise. And this will likely get put into your Record, so you may as well see."

Annis rolled her eyes, but she had been partnered with D'ran long enough that she knew he wouldn't distract her needlessly at a time like this. In minutes, she and D'ran were seated astride their dragons and rising quickly into the air. She found herself looking eastward, searching for the telltale grey smudge that heralded Thread. No, that was silly. Thread had just fallen yesterday; they would have at least a few days before Monaco would need to fight again. Then Voliath had given Clinith the visual, and the two dragons went _between. _Annis glanced down at the stark, empty land and gasped. Even more shocking than the complete devastation of Thread was what D'ran had (presumably) brought her here to see: rising out of the dusty, lifeless land was a field of green. Trees, bushes, and several rows of some sort of crop stood serenely in their little oasis. Without waiting for her mate, Annis had her queen tuck in her wings and land jarringly right next to the stone-walled field. She was close enough to step straight from her dragon's shoulder to the wall, jumping easily down to the lush, green grass. She glanced at the trees, searching for any sign of Threadscore or dragonfire. Nothing.

"The sweepriders already checked," D'ran said as he came up behind her. "There are grubs here."

Annis couldn't believe it. She dropped her knees, hastily scooped up a handful of dirt, and watched a tangle of silver-furred grubs scramble away from the morning sunlight. She let the revolting creatures disappear in the dark, rich soil and turn to D'ran.

"Do we know whose hold this was?" she asked fervently. "Are they all right? D'ran, where do you think..."

"Hold on, love," D'ran said, forestalling any further questions. "Think, now. No one builds with just stone, anymore. The likelihood that anyone who held here survived the Fall is very low; we'll try to find out if whoever it was survived, but we have to work quickly with this. I'll send a rider to the Farmercrafthall and the Beastcrafthall to learn more about the grubs. While we're fighting Thread, we can probably get the holders to spread the grubs."

"That'll take Turns, though," Annis said dejectedly. "And we don't even have any firestone!"

"That, my dear Weyrwoman, will be rectified very shortly," D'ran said with a smile. "In fact, we should be getting word from Telgar and High Reaches pretty soon."

"They've started the firestone mines?" Annis asked hopefully. "That was fast."

"They're working on it," D'ran replied. "And I hear that the Masterminer has set his journeymen and masters to looking for mines here in the South, too. Don't worry, Annis. We'll figure this out and do our duty to Pern, just as Pern will once more do its duty to us."

Suddenly, Annis groaned.

"What is it?" D'ran asked worriedly.

"After all this time, we're beholden again," she replied glumly. "Our ancestors worked so hard to make sure we dragonriders would never have to need another tithe ever again, and now _this. _I can just imagine how the holders are going to take it, too."

D'ran chuckled. The holders weren't the only ones who would resent the instatement of a tithe; free-lance dragonriders who had always lived and worked apart from any Hold or Weyr would hate being beholden to anyone. He hugged her close and tugged one of her long, blonde braids playfully.

"They won't be able to complain, though," he told her. "After all, we're heroes again. Now, let's grab a few grubs for study and get back to the Weyr. The free-lancers will need to be called back to the Weyrs, and I don't doubt we'll have to establish at least one more Weyr here in the South."

"This is going to take a lot of work, isn't it?" Annis said softly as the reality of their situation slowly began to sink in.

"Yes," D'ran replied. "So we'd best get started."

While Annis made her way back to her waiting queen dragon, D'ran scooped five or six of the grubs into his riding glove, secured the glove under his belt, and followed his mate's example. With a grim smile toward his weyrmate, D'ran gave the signal for the two dragons to leap into the air. He raised his arm and, after a short pause, dropped it to direct the dragons _between. _Thread was falling again, yes, but he and the other dragonriders would protect Pern once again. Yet even faced with such danger and tragedy, D'ran was comforted as the cold darkness of _between _enveloped him. He was going to Monaco Weyr, where he and Annis would resurrect the dragonriders.

He was going home.

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_Awww. This is a nice change, I think. I like ending with a sweet, uplifting scene like this. Obviously, the situation's still pretty dire, but there's hope! And chapter one has finally been connected to the rest of the story. Yea! ^_^ Anyway, I'll try to use M'ris and Voliath for Chapter five, but no promises. I might bring in my brownrider, but is that making my character cast too large? I've already got five. O.o Tell me what you think._

_As always, if you read, review. I love the feedback, and it's great motivation. All I'm asking for is "I like it" or "I don't like it." If you want to say more, go ahead. It doesn't all have to be excessively positive (just don't be mean and cruel, please), so feel free to say what you think._


	5. Chapter 5: Oversight

_Okay, after much delay, here is chapter five. After reading over the last chapter, I have noticed minor errors that have appeared in the process of publishing (somehow). The most notable is in my ending author's note, where I mentioned "M'ris and Voliath"; M'ris is paired with Forth, Voliath with D'ran. I'm still not sure how this happened, but, as with the other typos (which are thankfully few), I don't feel it would be beneficial to anyone to go back and change them now. Everyone knows what is meant, so I will leave them as is while I continue with the rest of the story. Also, please remember that I don't know anything about mining. All I know is what I've gleaned from Todd's works (and at that, not much), so bear with me._

_Disclaimer: Same as chapter one. If you've forgotten the exact wording (as I have) and actually care about said wording, please go back to chapter one and reread it._

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**Chapter 5: Oversight**

The rocky cliffs and mountains surrounding Crom Hold and the Minercrafthall situated there were dotted with stands of hardy trees and scattered splashes of green and yellow vegetation. As his brown dragon glided peacefully overhead, F'lin frowned. Everyone had assumed that there was no more need to keep the planet free of excess greenery, but Thread's unexpected arrival the day before had proved that the be a false assumption. F'lin squinted down at the landscape, trying to see if there was someone waiting at the Crafhall.

_The Masterminer is waiting near the entrance, _Garinth told his rider.

Ah, there he was. The short, heavily muscled man was now waving his arms wildly at the three dragons high above. F'lin thanked his dragon and signalled the other two brownriders to land. As the three dragons deposited their riders in the courtyard, more miners came to greet them. F'lin counted seven more burly miners standing around their Master as he and his two fellow riders stepped forward.

"Welcome, riders!" Masterminer Gristelat called. "Welcome. I assume you're here to discuss reopening the firestone mines."

F'lin grinned.

"Indeed, we are," he said. "Those mines must take first priority."

"Then I am glad to be able to bear you good news," Gristelat said. "Come into my office, please. We can talk there. You all! Get back to work! You can take a beak when Thread stops falling."

The last half of Gristelat's words were directed at the small crowd of his craftsmen. They hurriedly darted back inside the Crafthall while F'lin tried not to laugh. He remembered being terrified of his own Master when he was still training at the Beastcrafthall. That bad been before he had Impressed Garinth. At the Masterminer's urging the three dragonriders made their way into the Crafthall, past apprentices and journeymen at their work, and into a cramped, messy room with only a single window and dim glows to illuminate the space. Gristelat waved the three riders into seats across from his as he settled behind his desk.

"You said you had good news?" G'ber said from F'lin's left.

"Yes," Gristelat said. "When I got word that Thread was falling in the South, I sent my firelizard to the masterminers near the old firestone mines. I instructed them to take no less than half their miners, and begin working the old mines immediately. Some of the mines are almost finished, but there are plenty that will still give us firestone for a long time to come."

"You're already working the mines?" J'zen ased incredulously from F'lin's right. "That was fast!"

"Now, it'll be a while before we've enough to supply to Weyrs with a decent amount," Gristelat cautioned. "There's only so much that can be mined in a single day."

F'lin smiled amiably and help up his hand to forestall any more outbursts from his fellows.

"Masterminer Gristelat, we're aware that restoring the Weyrs to their former fighting strength will take time and effort," F'lin said quickly. "And until you're able to prepare the Weyrs individually, we'd be much obliged if you could supply as much firestone as possible for individual Falls."

Gristelat visibly paled at the thought of how much firestone would be needed to accomplish such a feat.

"In addition," F'lin went on, ignoring the other man's reaction, "we'll need to ask that you assign a portion of your apprentices and journeymen to research possible locations of firestone veins in the Southern Continent and the Western Islands. You'll have the Weyrs' full cooperation with transporting personnel anywhere they need to go, but we need your assistance in this. Can we count on you?"

F'lin gave the man a few moments to collect his wits. Gristelat sputtered a bit. He had obviously thought himself one step ahead (which he actually had been), but F'lin's request (originating from the combined Weyrleaders) was three or four steps ahead. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked each of the three riders in the eye, ending with F'lin.

"You can count on me and my craftsmen," Gristelat said determinedly.

When F'lin, G'ber, and J'zen left the Crafthall a half hour later, they were reasonably sure of the Minecraft's assistance. The apprentices were already poring over Records and maps. G'ber sighed and stretched his arms as soon as they were under open air again.

"I don't understand why anyone would want to be a miner," he muttered. "It's bad enough that so many holders are cramped in their cliffs and caves, but why would someone want to spend their entire profession digging underground?"

"Hey, be nice," J'zen chided him. "We're relying on those miners now."

G'ber shrugged but didn't bother changing his statements. F'lin smiled and decided to stop the two brothers before they got into a another fight.

"It's time to get back," he said, mentally calling down Garinth from the fire-heights. "Let's meet up at Telgar Weyr, and inform the Weyrleaders. They'll make sure the information we've gotten gets to the other Weyrs."

"Sure," J'zen agreed.

"Works for me," G'ber added.

Their browns followed Garinth down to the clearing, and once the three riders were secured, they leapt into the air. It took only three wingbeats for the dragons to gain proper airspace, and then, with their riders visualizing Telgar's Bowl, they went _between._

* * *

_So, we've finally got the firestone mines working (which you have all been so anxious for, I know), but I couldn't just let that be the end of it. That's not how things work when there's a disaster. Anyway, I'm hoping that this was a decent explanation for getting the firestone mines up (remember that since darn near everyone has a fire lizard now, news of Thread falling will have swept the planet in a matter of hours). *sigh* Dialogue is always so boring to write when there's nothing really going on. I miss the action from Chapter three._

_Anyway, if you've read this far, please review. It would make me absolutely ecstatic, and is a wonderful motivational tool. I hope you enjoyed it._


	6. Chapter 6: Shattered

_O.O I'm so sorry for taking...what, a month?...to update. I could spout a whole bunch of nonsense about school just starting, having writer's block, etc. While all this is true, the honest answer is that, basically, I got bored. :P "Last Resort" was more interesting. Not to mention I had no idea how to make this progress. In truth, I don't like *making* my stories progress. They do it naturally. Anyway, I had to come back to this, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I hope you forgive me. Sorry if it sounds sort of different from the other chapters._

_Special thanks to _RuinofDarkness_, who (not to put to fine a point on it) reminded me that this story existed, kicked my butt out of writer's block (by simply reviewing), and is the reason you're getting this chapter now. ^_^ Say thanks to her on your way to review._

_Special thanks also to the anonymous reviewer who chose to call him/herself _green. _That person gave me the highest praise I think I have ever, in my life, received. He/She wrote: "_...You paint such a vivid pictures that it was hard to remember that this is not straight out of the books." _I am honored that anyone would compare my little twiddles to a Master's work. u_u You have my profound and humble thanks._

_Disclaimer: Same as always...despite _green_'s comment, lol._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Shattered**

He couldn't stand their pity. Who were they to glance at him out of the corner of their eyes, whispering their little comments? Did they think they were better than he was? Did they honestly not realize that they, who were also threatened by Thread, were next in line to be pitied? Kelsin averted his eyes angrily from the knot of old Aunties and Uncles, gossiping away in their corner, and hugged his wife tighter. Luana seemed not to mind the looks and comments of her bloodkin. She was devastated enough with the loss of their hold; what were a few looks among family? Truth be told, Kelsin could not attribute his anger entirely to his in-laws. They were pitying, yes, but what else could they be? It didn't matter much how they treated the situation. Kelsin's outrage was merely a byproduct of his grief, and would be the same whatever their reaction.

Fellis Hold had been held by his family for generations, since before the Interval had begun. Now it was nothing but dust. The rumors still flying on the wings of fire lizards said that Thread left behind nothing but metal and stone. Everything else was completely devoured, without even bits and pieces left to show what had once stood. There would be the foundation of the main hold, possibly some of the tools and trinkets, and the wall around his special garden still standing, but not much else it seemed.

His garden! Kelsin mourned this almost more than he mourned the rest. He had worked so hard, for so long, to improve the little plot of paradise. Would the moss and tangled vines on the stone wall be dead and gone? Or would there be no evidence that the greenery had been there at all? Would Thread have eaten away at the grubs, too? Kelsin didn't hold out much hope for those little creatures. They were well enough for keeping a plant healthy, but perhaps an Interval had been enough time for the Thread-fighting gene to be bred out of the things. Either way, he couldn't make a living off a single, tiny field, even if it hadn't been so completely ravaged as the rest of the countryside. He looked down at his mate and children. How would he be able to support and protect them?

"Luana?" he asked softly, hoping that the Aunties and Uncles wouldn't try to eavesdrop; that nasty habit seemed to be the one trait they all shared. "You and the boys should stay here for a while. I'm going to go back."

Her panicked look mirrored his own feelings as she gripped his hand spasmodically. Thread had stopped falling several days ago (it had only lasted six hours, the Lord Holders said, but that was more than long enough), but no one was very comfortable traveling anywhere right now. In fact, if most of the planet didn't have fire lizards these days, the Holds and crafts would have had almost no way to communicate at all. Kelsin shoved his own fear aside, determined to give his family nothing to worry about.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "It's not that far from here, and I'll come straight back. We need to know, Luana. _I_ need to know. That hold is..._was_ my whole life. I have to see it for myself."

Luana was apparently convinced by the earnest note in his voice, or else she must have seen the determination in his eyes. She deftly extricated herself from his comforting embrace and held their children closer to herself.

"Be safe, Kel," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

"I'll be back soon," Kelsin answered, squeezing her shoulders gently. "Boys, see that you take care of your mother."

The two blondes nodded solemnly.

"I love you, Da," Krensin, the younger, said. "Come back soon."

Lensic, the elder, said nothing.

Kelsin didn't bother saying good-bye to Luana's family. He briefly explained to her sister, Cestaline (who was the head of the hold while her own husband was doing business at Southern Hold), why he was leaving, and was glad when she didn't try to stop him.

"Don't get Threaded out there," was all she said in parting.

The next morning, before any of Luana's nosier relatives had even stirred from their beds, Kelsin had saddled his lanky runner and was headed southwest, towards home. A low cry from the beasthold's direction had him turning in his saddle to see his son's grey mount trotting toward him. Lensic didn't bother to wave. He was a rather stoic, level-headed boy, especially for only twelve Turns, and he barely glanced at his father as he came abreast of Kelsin's runner.

"I'm coming, too," he said, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the road they would take back to what had been Fellis Hold.

"Did you tell your mother?" Kelsin asked, fairly sure he had not.

"Krensin knows," Lensic replied. "He'll tell her when she sees that I'm gone, too."

Kelsin nodded, a grin tugging at his lips almost against his will. When did Lensic become so independent, he wondered. Shrugging, he kneed his runner along the trace, Lensic following close behind. They should reach their old home by midmorning tomorrow, so they shouldn't be in any danger of Threadfall yet. Kelsin at least knew that Thread wouldn't Fall on the same stretch in the same sevenday or so. No need to worry, yet, then. Instead, he concentrated on not thinking about what (if anything) he would find when the two of them reached Fellis Hold lands. He didn't think he would be able to think about the ruins that were sure to greet him without shedding a tear or two.

* * *

_Sorry it's kind of short. Kind of boring, too. But it's an update, so what the hell, right? :) I hope you enjoyed, a little, and I'll get back to the dragonriders next time...which will, God willing, be soon._

_As always, if you read, review. Just think: if one person hadn't reviewed, this might have been abandoned for many weeks to come. So. Keep this story alive by reviewing. :)_

_EDIT: Also, if anyone sees any mistakes I've made (big ones, anyway; the little ones occuring during the saving/posting through the site, I don't bother with) please tell me. (Many thanks, _Pern Dreamer_. I've edited it all.)_


	7. Chapter 7: Rising Hope

_Okay, so this "chapter" is short. As in, really, really short. About half what you normally get. Do I care? A little. But this is what you get, and it'll turn into the next chapter easier than if you didn't have it. So enjoy. (I'm sorry it took so long! x_x )_

_Disclaimer: Blah blah, you get the idea._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Rising Hope**

"Two days is plenty long enough to recover," Tyreena said to the Weyrhealer, her voice only slightly desperate. "You've seen the scores; they were barely scratches. You know we can fly with those."

"Greenrider, I have dealt with enough injuries in my time to honestly say that I have no idea what the exact recovery time for Threadscore is," the healer replied, his grin taking the sting out of his words. "So I know that you have no clue either." He held up one hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to speak. "_But_ I have looked over Purith's injuries. She seems to be healing well, and the scores have closed almost completely."

"So we can fly?" Tyreena asked eagerly.

"Only for very short distances; and don't go _between_ if you can help it," the healer stressed. "You'll need to have her work those muscles to get back to their old strength, and flying is as good a way as any to do that. Flying can also make the wounds worse, so take it easy."

"I will, I promise," Tyreena said.

She didn't wait to see if the healer would change his mind before running out of the clearing that was serving as infirmary. Her thoughts reached out to Purith, relaying the good news, and the green's happy bugle reverberated through the air. Tyreena was so excited that she nearly ran right into the Weyrleader. D'ran steadied her before she overbalanced from the sudden stop, dismissing her hasty apology.

"You've spoken to Healer Grensel about flying, then?" he asked, releasing his hold on her as soon as he was sure she wasn't going to fall over.

"How could you tell?" Tyreena asked with a slight smile.

"Voliath," he explained. "News like that spreads quickly among dragons."

"It _is _the main focus of their existence," Tyreena replied. "After fighting Thread, that is."

"I'm glad Grensel gave his permission," D'ran went on. "I have a job for you and a few of the blue riders."

Tyreena listened attentively as the Weyrleader outlined his plan. Her eyes went wider and wider as he explained about the plot of land that was saturated with grubs. But she was as intuitive as a dragon sometimes, and was not surprised when it was revealed that her "job" would be to collect information on the grubs, take some for analysis at some of the Crafthalls, and help to transplant them. It would take days, perhaps whole sevendays, to do the job properly, but Tyreena had the feeling that, as dragonriders were placed back into the fighting wings, convalescing dragonpairs would replace them. She and Purith would likely be healed in another sevenday, so they might as well take advantage of their newfound leisure time.

"Do you have any questions?" D'ran asked when he had run out of things to expound upon.

"Just one," Tyreena replied with a comfortable smile. "Who am I working with?"

* * *

_Yeah, yeah, that's a stupid place to stop. But if you were watching this on TV, this would be the part where the wind would blow ominously, D'ran would smile, you would see his mouth move (but not hear anything), and Tyreena would look slightly stunned (but not in a bad way!). I couldn't find the right words for that, so I just left it. It'll be explained later. Anyway, I hope you weren't too disappointed._

_As always, if you've read this far, please review. It's great motivation. And if I haven't updated in a few days (or weeks), dropping me a private message is a pretty surefire way to get results (as I'm quickly learning). :) Have a nice day, dear readers and friends._


	8. ATTENTION

Hey, everybody. I'm back. I know what you're thinking: "she's here to update!" Well...no. No, I'm not. I recently read over this story, and I've made the decision to completely rework it. It's riddled with errors, plotholes, logic fails, and Mary Sues. It's a hassle to pull it down completely, so I'm just going to leave it. However, **please note this story is, in fact, dead. **I will not update it. I will not rework it. Reviews are still, of course, welcome, but please don't ask for me to continue. I intend to rewrite this story so that it makes sense and has decent characters. If I ever finish it, I will post it as a new story. Until I return, I bid you all a good day. And in case you didn't see it before...

**THIS FANFIC IS DEAD.**


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